


The Lucii

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Fae folk, Fantasy, M/M, Pre-Slash, Vignette, domestic abuse, like a long vignette, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28212570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Noctis and Prompto are poor, good for nothing, teenagers hanging around downtown Insomnia. Life is... good? Bad? It's hard to say exactly but things get complicated when the Fae Folk start showing an interest in Noctis.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	The Lucii

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valledorthedragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valledorthedragon/gifts).



> Merry Christmas Val! Hope you enjoy! Thanks for being such a wonderful friend this year. It is a delight and a privilege to talk to you every day. 
> 
> Notes: this is like an extended world set up. A super long vignette. More a glimpse into a universe than a completed arc but I had loads of fun writing it so hopefully you guys will enjoy <3

Noctis is a rough kid. He knows he’s a street rat, an urchin, but he’s also a survivor and that means a great deal to him. This life isn’t forever. He’s not always going to be poor. One day he’s going to be eighteen. One day he’s going to move out of his mother’s crack den apartment. One day he’s going to make a name for himself. He just knows it.

Prompto lives down the street from Noctis and they’ve been best friends since they were tiny. When Noctis could barely walk and Prompto was about thirty pounds heavier. They were broken, unwanted, neither of them particularly smart but they had each other and, for the longest time, that’s been enough. So long as Noctis has Prompto backing him up he can survive just about anything. Prompto isn’t a fickle friend. Prompto’s a real friend, a best friend, and Prompto always keeps his promises so Noctis has sworn on his honour never to break a promise to Prompto.

Noctis lives in a shitty apartment in the complex. Prompto lives in a little run-down house. Prompto’s parents actually work so they’re a little better off than Noctis’ mother. Noctis has practiced climbing Prompto’s back fence many times and tonight, at about midnight, he jumps the rickety old thing to cross the dead grass to Prompto’s back door. He knocks roughly, hands stuffed in his pockets, backpack clinging to his shoulders. Prompto takes a moment but he always answers the backdoor even at this hour. It’s their code. This way Prompto doesn’t have to take the risk of opening the front door onto the street when it could be anyone.

Prompto has a popsicle in his mouth when he opens the door. There’s never much in his house and his parents are never home to make meals. Noctis suspects he was up playing video games in his room or maybe editing photos on his little camera.

“Hey,” Prompto tugs him inside, “it’s cold. Aren’t you cold?”

“Fucking freezing,” Noctis consents, locking Prompto’s back door behind him. He doesn’t ask where Prompto’s parents are. If they’re home they’re out cold but it’s very unlikely they’re even home in the first place. Their marriage is such a shit show they both spend weeks away working outside the wall to avoid seeing each other.

“You wanna talk about it?” Prompto offers. Noctis doesn’t often come over at midnight without a good reason.

“She got back with her ex.” Noctis grumbles, heaving off his backpack. “So, of course, she’s on meth again because drugs are the only thing they have in common. Heard him come over, snuck out the fire escape, he hates me.”

“Fuck,” Prompto sighs, sucking the tip of his popsicle. “She was doing really good this time. I don’t think she’s done three weeks straight since you were like twelve.”

“Ugh, yeah,” Noctis sighs, “but this is why we don’t get our hopes up. She’s a fucking moron.”

“Wanna game?” Prompto offers, helping Noctis drag his overstuffed backpack into Prompto’s bedroom. “Are you hungry? I’ve got food.” Prompto always makes sure to have a little of something.

“Food’s good,” Noctis never turns down food. Noctis’ meal plan is irregular at best. If his mother has money she certainly doesn’t spend it on groceries. Noctis has gone hungry plenty of times but Prompto tries to feed them both.

Prompto and Noctis take turns with the controller in Prompto’s bedroom. Shooting monsters in a sewer level until well after two am. Eventually they’re both tired enough to crash. Noctis fetches his toothbrush out of the backpack, Prompto loads extra blankets on the bed so they’ll both be warm, and curling up in the darkness of Prompto’s musty room they listen to the fleeting street traffic outside the window. Falling asleep never comes easy.

Prompto always sleeps close to Noctis, they tangle up. Noctis would be embarrassed if it was anyone else. He doesn’t like people touching him and he has to look tough at all times. But Prompto is safe and Noctis trusts Prompto. It’s nice to be cuddled against Prompto. Noctis is sure they both crave intimacy, affection, and without anyone else to give it to them they lean on each other like they do for everything else.

They sleep till noon. Technically they should be at school but who’s going to care? And who is the school going to call? Because Noctis’ mum is definitely going to be lucid enough to tell him off when he gets home, sure.

They game, they shower, they stop by the tiny corner grocery mart and scrape together enough money to make a feast of frozen pizza.

“You working tonight?” Prompto asks.

“Yeah,” Noctis grunts, wiping sauce off the corner of his mouth.

Noctis works at a pretty dingy restaurant. Customers are shit but Noctis takes his job very seriously. Being able to make his own money means everything to him. His boss pays him as well as he can, is always decent, and treats Noctis like he’s a good kid. Noctis returns the favour by never skimming the till and trying to do the job to the best of his ability. He likes his boss. Dave’s a nice man. Noctis doesn’t care what most people think of him these days but he doesn’t want to disappoint Dave so he shows up on time for every shift.

Today Dave has him cleaning dishes and serving customers simultaneously because another staff member called in sick. Noctis thinks that’s a fucking luxury.

“You had dinner?” Dave asks towards the end of Noctis’ shift.

Noctis shrugs.

“No one feeds you enough,” Dave grunts. “Finish off some of the stock. Less to freeze that way.”

Noctis eats till he feels like he’s going to burst. Dave can’t always spare the food but he tries his best to keep Noctis from dying.

They close up for the night. Dave tells him to be careful walking home and Noctis waves him off. At his mum’s apartment Noctis puts his ear to the door before putting his key in the lock. He can hear shouting already. He’s not keen to walk into a scene. He always makes things worse. So, backpack still on his shoulders, Noctis walks back to Prompto’s to spend another night playing video games.

This is life, he supposes.

* * *

It starts as a niggle at the end of April but two weeks into May Noctis is sure he has a problem. Prompto’s a little surprised when Noctis insists on going to school but Noctis is keen to explain somewhere a little more decent and secure. Their school is just a public school in the burbs near the outer wall of Insomnia. Nothing special. But it does have on campus security to avoid incidents and you need to get a visitors’ pass to come on school grounds if you’re not a student.

At lunch Noctis takes Prompto up onto the roof.

“You’ve been acting funny.” Prompto remarks but follows without question. “You ever going to tell me what’s up?”

“Gimme your camera,” Noctis orders. Prompto never goes anywhere without his camera. Prompto hands it to him and kneeling on the edge of the roof Noctis zooms to take a photo through the chicken wire wrapped around the roof.

“Since when do you take photos, dude?” Prompto hums.

Noctis turns back around and slumps, handing Prompto the camera and flicking to his photo.

“That car. That black car.” He points. “It’s been following me.”

“What?” Prompto blinks.

“I swear to god, dude, it’s been following me.” Noctis repeats sternly.

Prompto frowns, regarding the photo and glancing back over his shoulder to peek into the side street looped around the school grounds where the car is parked.

“Do you think your mum owes someone money?” Prompto wonders.

“She’d have to owe someone an awful lot of money,” Noctis hums, “they’ve been hanging around for like three weeks.”

“ _Three weeks?_ ” Prompto wheezes. “Cops?”

“I don’t think so,” Noctis sighs. “My mum’s just some low-level junkie. It’s not like she’s a mob whore or something. If the cops wanted to charge her that wouldn’t be hard or anything.”

“Dude,” Prompto frowns, glancing back at the car. “That’s so weird… Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Noctis maintains. “I’ve seen em everywhere. At the restaurant, in our street, near the arcade… It’s the same license plate. I checked.”

“So fucking creepy,” Prompto murmurs. “What do you reckon we do? Should we tell someone?”

“Yeah, because they’ll believe us,” Noctis snorts. “Nah, man, I…. I don’t know. Just be careful, yeah?”

Prompto nods.

Noctis doesn’t have a shift that night so after school he goes home. He and Prompto say goodbye at the corner and Noctis watches the black car ease down the street towards them, same license plate as ever, pulling up to park near an old meter.

Swearing, Noctis lingers for a moment but heads into his apartment building.

Noctis mum is relatively lucid this afternoon, curled up on the couch with a pillow stuffed in her arms while she watches sitcom reruns.

“Hey Sweetie,” she croaks. “How was school?”

Noctis grunts. He doesn’t like this part of the routine. His mum was probably very pretty once, probably very sweet too, but this side of her, soberness, is fleeting and Noctis doesn’t have the energy to get attached. He’s been disappointed far too frequently. So he doesn’t engage anymore. Maybe she’s feeling clear headed right now but that won’t last forever and it hurts less if Noctis’ doesn’t get his hopes up.

“You wanna watch a movie, baby?”

“Homework,” Noctis lies, heading to his bedroom.

“Since when do you do homework?” His mum jokes.

“Since one of us has to get a job.” Noctis deadpans coldly.

His mum slumps, gaunt and sad.

“Baby…” She wavers. “You know I love you, right?”

“I’m somewhere on the totem pole, yeah.” Noctis shrugs. He doesn’t doubt his mother loves him in her own way. She just cares more about getting her next hit. The addiction, the screaming ache, will win out over him every time and he’s sick of pretending otherwise.

Noctis locks himself in his bedroom and slumps on the bed. His heart always aches when she’s lucid. He keeps telling himself he won’t let it hurt but it always does.

Noctis assures himself her shitty boyfriend will come over later and she’ll get high again but by ten pm it’s still peaceful in the apartment and somehow that’s worse. He hates this. He hates getting his hopes up. He hates hoping she’ll turn a corner. He can’t take it.

Pulling his pillow over his face Noctis wishes he had an excuse to leave.

At ten thirty his mum knocks on his bedroom door.

“Night baby,” she calls.

“Night,” Noctis chokes out.

There’s a long pause.

“You wanna talk Noct?”

“No,” Noctis snaps sternly.

There’s an itch in his gut. An awful cold feeling. Noctis hates it. He hates everything. He listens to his mum turn off the lights and the TV and go to bed and he just can’t settle. He feels wild, angry, upset… he doesn’t even have the words for it. Maybe, one day, when Noctis makes enough money to see a therapist he’ll have the words for it but tonight all he has is adrenaline and testosterone.

Pushing the pillow back, Noctis shoves his phone and his keys into his pockets and climbs out the fire escape. He rounds the side of the apartment building and, sure enough, there’s that fucking black car. Noctis isn’t sure what he’s doing, maybe he has a death wish, but stalking across the street Noctis makes a beeline for the automobile. He expects it to pull off from the curb and drive away but it just sits there.

Noctis rattles his knuckles against the tinted glass, breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold, and waits for the window to roll down.

“You alright, kid?” The driver asks.

Noctis can’t see how many people are in the car but it doesn’t matter. The driver is handsome, well shaven, hair styled back in a kind of mohawk with braids framing the sides of his head. He looks too clean to be a gangster but too heavy metal to be a cop. Noctis doesn’t care.

“Leave me alone,” Noctis snaps. “ _Fuck off._ ”

The driver hesitates for a moment, sharp eyes glancing back into the car then back to Noctis. Noctis puffs himself up, all rankled, waiting for the other shoe to drop but the guy in the black car just sighs.

“It’s late kid,” he supposes. “You should go home. Ain’t safe to be out here this late.”

Noctis sees something in those eyes. They seem to flash like a cat’s in the low light of the street. There’s intelligence and knowing, confidence even. Noctis knows people with eyes like this are dangerous and every hair on his neck is starting to stand up but Noctis refuses to back down.

“You’ve been following me,” Noctis challenges. “If you don’t lay off I’m going to call the fucking cops.”

Noctis just wants someone to hurt him. He wants a distraction. He wants to fight.

The man watches Noctis very closely, completely unphased. 

Something’s not right. Noctis’ gut tells him there’s something else going on, something he doesn’t understand, and some weird sixth sense eats away at him like he’s not talking to a person at all. Like he’s talking to something else. Something weird. Noctis can hold his own in a brawl with street punks but this isn’t a punk, this is something else entirely, and some ingrained part of Noctis tells him he’s outmanned and outnumbered and he should run not walk to safety.

“What’re the cops gonna do?” The man supposes levelly. “Ain’t a crime to park.”

“Leave me alone.” Noctis digs his heels in. “I mean it.”

Something in the air snaps, a chord of tension giving off a nearly audible sound, and for the first time the man hesitates.

“Is that an order?” He asks, dark eyes mapping Noctis’ face intensely.

What kind of question is that? Noctis feels like he’s stumbled into something strange, something surreal, but at the same time a kind of clarity comes over him.

“Yes.” He snaps, putting the words into the air; “that’s an order.”

The man glances back into the passenger seat and then flicks the engine on. Noctis startles back from the car, just a step, and the man turns back to him.

“You should really go home, kid,” he says, “this is a nasty neighbourhood.”

And then the car rolls forward, away from Noctis, and the man rolls up the window. He puts on his blinker, he pulls away from the curb, and he drives out of the street.

Noctis wheezes, shoulders slumping.

What just happened?

* * *

Prompto has a hard time believing Noctis but he does listen to his story the following day at school. Noctis is still confused by what happened, rattled, but he doesn’t know how to explain it. He’s never been good at talking about his feelings.

“You’ve always been crazy lucky,” Prompto laughs weakly.

He’s not wrong. Noctis always has been lucky. Noctis’ gut is fine tuned to bullshit. Noctis knows when he’s being lied to and exactly when to remove himself from a situation. He puts that down to years of training with volatile addicts but it’s more than that. Sometimes things just happen. Sometimes Noctis just gets lucky. Even against all odds, somehow, Noctis always comes out alright.

“Maybe it was like… a ghost car?” Prompto supposes too seriously.

“You listen to too many podcasts.” Noctis snorts, slumping onto his back on the roof.

“Insomnia’s always had crazy urban legends,” Prompto defends. “There’s like a whole forum that thinks there’s vampires in the city.”

“Ahuh,” Noctis throws his arm over his face. “I don’t think they were vampires though, or ghosts, they felt weirder than that. It was fucking creepy, Prom.”

“Least they left you alone.” Prompto chirps. “That’s a plus.”

“Yeah, that’s true…” Noctis admits. “I haven’t seen that car all day.”

“Well victory celebration then!” Prompto decides. “We should go to the arcade, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Noctis laughs, “let’s go to the arcade.”

“After school?” Prompto supposes wryly.

“Yeah, no, fuck that.” Noctis snorts, sitting up and snatching up his bag. “It’ll be way quieter now.”

Prompto and Noctis don’t usually leave school halfway through the day. If they’re going to ditch they just don’t bother showing up in the first place which isn’t uncommon. No one really cares if they show up or not. The teachers have pretty much given up on them at this point. They’ve been threatened for truancy but whatever. What’s the worst that can happen? They get put in foster care with people who give half a crap? Yeah, sounds terrifying.

The arcade is basically empty and they twenty-something behind the register knows they shouldn’t be there but he doesn’t bother to ask any questions. He lets Prompto and Noctis buy their tokens and they flutter off to the machines.

Noctis is better at DDR but Prompto makes shooters his bitch. They play whack-a-mole till they’re both laughing and sweaty and then Noctis would like nothing more than to get pizza or a slushie but they don’t have any cash left so they walk home.

The black car is waiting for them.

They both freeze. Prompto swears, tugging Noctis back, and easing back behind the corner of a building they start to whisper to each other frantically.

“What the fuck?” Prompto hisses. “Dude, I thought you told them to get lost?”

“I did!” Noctis huffs. “Maybe— I—I’ll just tell em again!”

“Dude, do not be crazy,” Prompto urges. “What if they’re in the mob? What if they want your organs? What if they’re— Noct!”

But Noctis has pulled himself free and is stalking back around the corner.

Prompto hurries behind him, swearing audibly, till they make it to the car. Noctis is about ten feet away when the driver and passenger doors open. Two men get out. Neither of them are the braided mohawk man from last night. They’re impeccably dressed. One of them has glasses and a blazer while the other, who is leaning on the top of the car, is fucking huge.

Noctis stumbles to a halt, nerve wavering, and Prompto hits into his back almost making them topple over.

The men watch them but don’t say anything and Noctis feels Prompto’s fingers curl in the back of his hoodie. They have those sharp eyes. They move funny. But then… they’re not really moving, they’re just standing, but somehow even that’s weird.

Noctis gathers his courage even as Prompto tugs him to walk away.

“I thought I told you people to leave me alone?” Noctis challenges.

“ _Dude,_ ” Prompto whispers roughly.

“We are complying with the spirit of that order,” the man in the glasses answers calmly.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Noctis gripes.

“It means,” the big man grumbles smugly, “that you told _them_ to leave you alone. You haven’t told us to do shit.”

“Well I’m telling you now.” Noctis tries, puffing up his shoulders.

“Different rules apply in this circumstance I’m afraid,” the man in the glasses counters. “We’re under no obligation to leave you alone even if instructed to do so.”

“But I thought…?” Noctis fumbles.

“We’ve got a higher prerogative.” The big one grins. “Outranks standard orders.”

“Who the fuck even are you people?” Noctis snaps, finding his voice again.

“I’m afraid we’re not at liberty to disclose that yet.” Glasses maintains, shooting a steady look at his companion as if in warning.

“Fine,” Noctis whips out his phone, “you can tell the cops.”

“ _Dude!_ ” Prompto hisses under his breath frantically.

“Please,” Glasses invites, “call the authorities.”

Noctis hesitates, just for a second, at that certainty but biting his nerve he dials and presses the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” He begins to talk to the operate. “Yeah, hi, I need police.”

The slimmer man pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sighs. The big man, on the other side of the car, outright laughs. And Prompto, bundled up behind Noctis, is swearing frantically muttering;

“Dude, what if they have guns?”

Noctis explains the situation to the best of his ability and the operator asks two things; his name and his location.

Then her whole tone changes.

“Oh, yes, we’re aware.” She remarks all of a sudden. “I’m afraid I can’t dispatch officers in this circumstance.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Noctis baulks.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the operator answers, “it’s over my head. If the situation changes please update us.”

“What the fuck—Hello?” Noctis gapes at his phone, dial tone beeping out of the speakers. “She—she hung up on me!”

Big Guy smirks.

“I can assure you,” Glasses raises one long fingered hand, “we mean you no harm.”

“Fuck you!” Noctis snaps.

Glasses looks a little put off at the language but Big Guy just whistles low with amusement.

“That’s no way to speak,” Glasses huffs, gathering himself back up to full height.

Oh that’ just sets Noctis off.

“ _Fuck you, you cock sucking motherfucking shit for brains racoon!_ ”

Big Guy is pissing himself.

Glasses looks a little distraught.

Prompto tugs him hard, grasping his hand and yanking him around towards the apartments. Noctis fumbles but follows numbly. He’s not sure what else to do. He’s mystified. What does any of this mean? Who are these people? How come they listen to him sometimes but not others?

They make it to Noctis’ apartment and bundle into the lounge. Noctis mum is obviously high but her shitty boyfriend isn’t around.

Prompto is swearing frantically, hands in his hair, but Noctis drops his backpack and stalks straight to his mother.

“What did you do?” He barks.

“Huh?” She blinks up at him groggily.

“People are following me!” Noctis snaps. “ _What did you do?_ ”

“Baby, I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout…?” His mother fumbles.

“Fucking…” Noctis buries his hands in his hair.

“Hi Prompto,” his mum chirps at the equally rattled blonde.

Noctis swears, whipping back around to grab Prompto’s hand and drag him into his bedroom.

They lock the door, not that that will do much honestly, and collapse in a pile on the dingy bed. Prompto is full on shaking and Noctis has to haul the blonde into his arms. He squishes Prompto close, holding Prompto so tight he can hardly tremble, half to soothe half because it soothes him.

“Okay so the police are in on it,” Noctis supposes. “Whatever _it_ is, I guess…”

“This is so fucking weird,” Prompto laughs brokenly. “I thought you were being paranoid, then I thought you confused or maybe losing it, now I think—Th-this is weird. It doesn’t make any sense. If they wanna hurt you or whatever why don’t they just do it? It’s not like we’re in a fortress or anything.”

“I went up to that car last night, late, and there was no one around.” Noctis agrees. “They could’ve just shot me a drove off. They would’ve totally gotten away with it.”

“And if they wanna kidnap you or whatever then, sorry, but we’re not exactly hard to kidnap either.” Prompto wheezes, laughing if only because he’s confused and scared.

“Fuck…” Noctis buries his face in Prompto’s hair. “Fuck…”

Prompto goes very still.

“H-hey, Noct, there is a less scary option…?”

Noctis’ head lurches up.

“What do you mean?”

“Well like…” Prompto mumbles. “If your biological dad was trying to get custody or something then maybe the police would know about it. Maybe its him? Maybe he’s rich or something?”

Noctis laughs, dry and cold.

“My mum did not sleep with a millionaire, Prom.” Noctis snorts. “I mean… She’s never told me much but that’s cause there’s not much to tell. He was just some guy she had sex with. I don’t even think they were that serious. She was like barely eighteen. I don’t think she ever told him; I mean she barely told my grandparents.”

“But what if?” Prompto insists. “What if he won the lottery and found out about you or something?”

“And those guys are what? Private security?”

“Yeah,” Prompto answers. “Exactly.”

“I mean…” Noctis hesitates. It sounds ludicrous to him. No one with prospects would ever look twice at his mum but he supposes she was innocent and clean and pretty once so maybe…? Noctis nibbles his bottom lip. “Okay, crazy idea; but those guys haven’t tried to kill or kidnap me, right?”

“Right…?” Prompto answers cautiously.

“Well let’s just ask them then.”

“They said they couldn’t tell you though?”

“Oh they’ll tell me,” Noctis decides sternly. “I’ll make them tell me.”

“But Noct—”

“They said they have higher prerogatives. They implied they don’t have to follow all my orders but that they do have to follow some of them. So, technically, maybe if we ask the right questions…?”

“I mean…” Prompto hesitates. “It’s worth a shot?”

“I guess…”

“This is so fucking weird.”

“Agreed.” Noctis laughs weakly.

* * *

The car is still across the street. This time Noctis makes it to the driver’s side window before the door opens. Glasses and Big guy get out again, Glasses looks exasperated but Big guy looks like he’s having a great time. Noctis takes a big breath, Prompto lingering behind him, peeking over his shoulder.

“I do hope you intend to use your manners this time,” Glasses sighs. “Yes?”

“I want to—” Noctis fumbles for the right words. “What’re your names?”

The pair share a glance. Big guy shrugs lopsidedly. Sighing Glasses returns his attention to Noctis.

“He is Gladiolus,” he gestures, “I am Ignis.”

“Do I get last names?” Noctis tests the waters.

“Won’t help you,” Gladiolus assures.

“You said you don’t mean any harm,” Noctis turns on Ignis, “so why are you following me then?”

“I am not at liberty to disclose—”

“I’m not asking who you’re with or whatever,” Noctis cuts him off, “I’m not even asking about your master plan. I’m just asking what the purpose of you tailing me is.”

Ignis’ breath catches and he chokes on a word before casting another desperate glance to Gladiolus. Gladiolus is laughing again, hand in his hair, and shrugs a second time.

“We are supposed to keep you out of trouble,” Ignis heaves, “we are supposed to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

“You’re protecting me?” Noctis clarifies.

“Yes,” Ignis grumbles.

“And you can’t tell me why?” Noctis checks.

“No.” Ignis answers firmly.

“Well…” Noctis considers carefully. “Can I talk to someone who _can_ tell me?”

Ignis fumbles again. “I… Well…”

“That’s not scheduled for another few days,” Gladiolus answers, coming to Ignis’ rescue. “Think you can wait a little while?”

“No.” Noctis folds his arms.

It’s Gladiolus’ turn to choke on his words. Ignis snorts, rounding on his companion smugly, as if to say; ‘ _yeah, now you know how it feels_ ’.

“I can’t order you to leave me alone,” Noctis concludes, “so… I’m ordering you to get me whoever’s in charge. Now.”

There’s a beat of silence, the pair frozen.

“ _Fucking_ —” Gladiolus slumps his head into the top of the car with a moan.

“C-can I do that…?” Noctis asks the pair, wavering.

“Technically? Yes.” Ignis sighs. “Yes, you can do that.”

“So….?”

“Please retire to the apartment,” Ignis instructs. “We will call in our superiors. It may take several hours before they can be here, at the earliest, so you’ll likely be more comfortable waiting inside. We’ll knock when they arrive. Is that acceptable?”

“I…” Noctis laughs weakly. “That’ll do…?”

“Well then,” Ignis gestures back to the apartment expectantly.

Noctis turns, taking Prompto’s hand again.

“ _Ballsy, bratty, little_ —” Gladiolus rumbles softly.

“Smart, too smart,” Ignis bemoans under his own breath.

Noctis and Prompto hurry back inside.

Noctis’ mum is just starting to come down off her high and she’s starting to piece together something is going on. Noctis, not sure who exactly he’ll need for this, gets her a glass of water and tries to sober her up over the next few hours. He wants her semi with it if that can happen. If his biological father is involved or whatever then his mum can at least confirm that so they sit in the lounge room, loading water into his mum, fidgeting.

“Noct, baby,” his mother sighs, head no doubt throbbing. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Noctis admits. “But you need to be stable tonight, please? For once in my life just hold it together a little. Something weird is happening.”

“O-okay? Sure baby,” his mother forces a smile.

They wait a few hours. Prompto nervously flips through TV channels and Noctis is too rattled with nerves to eat much even when his mum insists on pulling out what little food they do have. Noctis chews his nails, curled up in the armchair, and Prompto’s gaze flickers from him, to the TV, to the door on a six second rotation.

At eight thirty pm, give or take a few minutes, the front door knocks.

Prompto lurches but Noctis directs Prompto and his mum to stay down.

Noctis wipes his hands on his pants. His nails are bleeding a little after biting them so much but he tunes out the minor annoyance of the pain. He spies out the peephole. There’s just a man, an older man, all by himself and he looks pretty harmless…

Noctis takes a deep breath and unlocks the front door.

“Um… hi?” He supposes.

The man is like forty, maybe. Way older than Noctis’ mum. He’s got a walking stick but it seems to be for an injury rather than age because he’s plainly favouring one side over the other. He’s dressed nicely. Way nicer than anyone Noctis has ever spoken to. Noctis doesn’t know shit about luxury brands but he knows the smell of _clean_.

“Hello,” the man greets. He’s got this smile that lights up his whole face. It’s warm and genuine. Noctis has gotten to know a lot of men, a lot of bad men, and bad men aren’t capable of faking an expression like that in his experience. “You must be Noctis,” he supposes fondly, “might I come in?”

“Um—Yeah, sure.” Noctis stumbles back out of the way.

The man walks slowly over the threshold into the lounge. He’s obviously sick or something but he holds himself very firmly. In the lounge he acknowledges Prompto and Noctis’ mum but waits for Noctis to catch up before asking;

“Noctis, will you introduce me?”

“T-that’s Prompto, my best friend, and that’s my mum.” Noctis manages weakly. “You should sit, do you want…?”

“A seat would be very appreciated,” the man sighs, letting Noctis direct him into the armchair by the muted TV. “It’s very nice to meet you both.”

“Cristine,” Noctis’ mum offers her hand weakly.

“Regis,” he answers, shaking her hand gently before offering the palm to Prompto who looks at it like it’s a fucking chaos emerald before fumbling to return the gesture. “You can sit too, Noctis. I suspect we have plenty to talk about.”

Noctis slips onto the couch between Prompto and his mum. He takes Prompto’s hand instead of his mum’s and Regis seems to notice this.

“I’m very sorry if the security detail frightened you,” Regis begins. “It was a necessity while we organized the details of our meeting. You’ve pushed things a little ahead of schedule though,” he sounds amused at that.

“Are you….?” Noctis searches for the right words. Regis is way to old to have had sex with his mum. Just didn’t happen, Noctis is sure of it, but then what’s going on? “Are you like the Feds or something?”

“We have plenty to do with the government but, no, I don’t represent any official law enforcement branch.” Regis answers. “I understand you must have a lot of questions and concerns. If you could be patient with me a moment I’ll try and explain.”

Noctis nods weakly, clearing the floor, fingers laced with Prompto.

“It’s my understanding that people these days don’t really believe in magic, is that correct?” Regis supposes.

“I mean…” Noctis isn’t sure how to answer that. “I know it’s not real if that’s what you mean….?”

“Magic is very real,” Regis counters with this deep certainty. “There are creatures and forces well outside the human realm of understanding. In Eos, for literal millennia, there have been the Lucians for example.”

“Lucians…?” Prompto voices softly.

“Yes,” Regis smiles. “Myths exist; vampires, fairies, werewolves…. Most of these are a misunderstanding of a greater culture co-existing alongside humanity. We have lots of names therefore but we prefer, amongst ourselves, to be called Lucians.”

Noctis frowns, gaze wavering away from Regis.

“Noctis?”

“I’m sorry,” Noctis shakes his head, “but that sounds like bullshit.”

“I can understand it’s harder to see us now,” Regis shrugs. “In this modern age lots of things have changed. We’re at once more obscured and more integrated than we’ve ever been.”

“I…” Noctis frowns, “I’m not just going to believe that. You’re going to have to prove it.”

“Alright,” Regis consents patiently. “Come sit on the coffee table and give me your hand for a moment?”

Noctis shifts gently out from between his mum and Prompto and comes to rest his weight on the edge of the coffee table. Regis takes his hand, holding it palm side up, and cupping under Noctis’ hand with both of his own takes a deep breath.

There’s a tingle, a kind of surge, that Noctis feels in his bones and then there’s a literal orb of fire between his fingers and—

Noctis yelps, wrenching his hand back to clutch it against his chest. His heart thunders in his chest. Prompto swears so hard he falls off the couch behind him but, shushing them all, Regis reaches for Noctis’ hand.

“Did it hurt?” He asks apologetically.

Noctis unfurls his hand with Regis’ delicate tugging and finds that…. no, it didn’t hurt. His hand looks fine. Noctis heaves, heart pounding, and tries to put it together in his head. That had to be a trick, right? _How did he do that?_

“Can--?” Noctis chokes.

“Shall we do it again?” Regis offers.

Noctis nods jerkily.

Regis takes his hand back.

“Deep breath,” Regis coaches.

And then it’s back. Noctis can feel the heat coming off the fire but it doesn’t actually touch his palm. It doesn’t hurt or sting or burn. Noctis is mystified, gaping, fingers twitching delicately as the orb stays steady in his grasp.

“ _Dude!_ ” Prompto wheezes, clutching both sides of his face where he sits on the floor.

“How do…?” Noctis’ mouth is very dry.

“Just close your fist,” Regis encourages.

Noctis hesitates but, sure enough, he snuffs the flames by curling his fingers into a fist without even a tinge of pain.

They’re all silent for a long moment.

Noctis feels…

Noctis isn’t sure what he feels, honestly.

Regis seems to give them a moment to process.

“W-why are you telling me this?” Noctis manages eventually.

“Most Lucians are made,” Regis explains, “but every few thousand years one is born.”

“ _Dude…_ ” Prompto whispers in the tiniest voice.

“The stars told us you would be born,” Regis continues, “so we’ve been looking for you. It can be very confusing to be a teenager, especially if you’re special, and we didn’t want you to be without people who could explain all this to you.”

“So you…?” Noctis can barely breathe. “I’m like _you?_ ”

“You’ve very special,” Regis answers.

“Then what…?” Noctis is grasping at literal straws. Magic is real. Okay. Nice. Great. “What does this mean then? What happens next?”

“Well, ideally,” Regis folds both hands gently in his lap, “we’d like you to come live with us.”

Noctis’ mouth opens and closes a few times, soundlessly, while he struggles.

“Do I have to…?” He manages.

“It’s your choice,” Regis promises, “but we very much want to be part of your life. If you tell me you would like to leave then we will take you tonight. If you want to stay I would ask you let us visit.”

Noctis’ mind races. His eyes dart quickly to Prompto, to his mother.

Noctis does not want to live another second in a crack den but, at the same time…

He turns back to Prompto, Prompto meets his gaze, and they seem to communicate wordlessly for a second. Prompto knows this is sheer madness, utterly insane, but likewise Prompto seems to see the opportunity. They bicker about it for a moment, all through facial expressions and tiny gestures, but finally Prompto turns to Regis.

“C-can I come too…?”

Regis laughs.

“If Noctis would like your company I don’t see why not,” Regis assures.

They are literally going to be whisked off by fucking Fae folk.

Noctis wheezes, lightheaded.

“Mum?” He glances.

She looks very small and very pale. She seems to understand what’s happening and somehow, in her own tired way, she seems relieved.

“I…” She shrugs. “I’m not a very good mum, am I Noct?”

“Not really,” he admits.

“I can’t offer you anything…” she whispers, glancing to Regis; “it won’t be dangerous, will it?”

“We need him to be safe and happy,” Regis assures.

“I guess… I….” His mother shrugs weakly. “It’s up to you, baby. This is way above my paygrade.”

“You’d just give me up?” Noctis snaps with a weak petulance.

“You don’t want to stay,” she whispers mournfully. “You shouldn’t have to stay. I can’t… I can’t seem to go straight but I want you to be happy, Noct. I really do. If your life would be better without me then…”

Its hurts just because it’s true.

Noctis swallows.

“I’d like to go,” Noctis decides quietly, “so long as Prompto can come too.”

Regis nods.

“Why don’t you both get some things?” Regis offers. “You won’t need anything practical but if there’s anything you want to bring you should pack it.”

“Can we have a little while?” Noctis wets his lips.

“Gladiolus and Ignis will remain here with the car,” Regis assures. “You take as much time as you want. When you’re ready just go meet them outside. I have to get back to work, unfortunately, but I’ll see you soon.”

Regis eases his stiff body back onto his feet and Noctis lurches up after him—

“It’s alright.” Regis promises. “I can see myself out.”

* * *

Noctis fabled backpack has always been ready for this day. He has been prepared to jump ship and run away since he was twelve. He rearranges things a little, throws some practical things on his bed to make room for sentimental things, but honestly the only thing that makes Noctis sentimental for his childhood is Prompto and Prompto is coming with. His favourite hoodie is already on his back, his favourite boots on his feet, and running a hand through his hair he takes a deep breath.

Prompto ran home to get some things, leave his parents a note, all that kind of stuff. Noctis just hopes, desperately, that Prompto won’t change his mind.

His goodbye with his mother is tense and awkward. He lets her hug him but it’s been a long time since he’s let that happen so it doesn’t feel very genuine or natural. She cups his cheeks, whispers half gibberish, and Noctis isn’t at all sure what to say so he parrots that he loves her too and steps outside the apartment feeling numbed.

Prompto is on the sidewalk with his backpack. He’s looking at his feet nervously, scuffing his sneakers on the concrete, while Ignis and Gladiolus lean against the car patiently.

Noctis hefts his backpack a little higher up his shoulder but Gladiolus moves forward with an expectant hand.

“Come on,” he offers, “we’ll put em in the trunk.”

Noctis surrenders the backpack weakly and Gladiolus makes a show of grunting.

“Weighs a fucking ton! How do you--? Ugh! You too blondie, come on, backpack off.”

Prompto scrambles surrendering his backpack to Gladiolus who hefts them both into the trunk.

“You two are going to throw your backs out,” Gladiolus snorts, moving around to the passenger door.

Ignis pulls open the door to the backseat, offering the interior of the car to them with a gesture. Prompto and Noctis share a look, a shrug, and step closer cautiously.

Ignis moves very quickly all of a sudden. Noctis almost doesn’t catch it but Ignis zips Prompto’s hoodie up higher in one razor swift motion and grasps Noctis’ elbow tightly to tug him closer.

“Absolutely freezing,” he tuts, “get in the car before you catch your death. Honestly, who lets you walk around like this?”

Prompto and Noctis, street urchins, are not used to being babied. For a second Noctis actually thinks they’re being mocked before he understands but then they’re in the warm car, mystified and shell shocked.

As the car pulls away from the curb Prompto laces his fingers in Noctis’. Noctis is happy for the touch. Prompto is familiar and safe. They drive away from the street they’ve lived on their whole lives and Noctis wonders, for a long uncomfortable second, if he’ll ever see it again?

Noctis is still watching it fade in the rear window when Prompto finds his voice.

“So…” He sings cautiously. “Lucians, right? That’s the term.”

“Correct,” Ignis answers. “How much did his Majesty tell you?”

“Not a lot,” Prompto admits. “But he did this cool—”

“Majesty?” Noctis glances back into the car, startled out of his ruminating.

“Yes,” Ignis repeats, “King Regis rules the Lucians of Eos. Officially, as of this moment, you’re his royal highness, _Prince_ Noctis.”

Noctis feels his stomach sink through his feet.

“ _Dude!_ ” Prompto wheezes.

“No one said anything about that!” Noctis chokes.

“Born Lucians are automatically entered into the line of succession,” Ignis tries to explain. “Lucian births, while seemingly spontaneous, are very sacred to us. They are foretold.”

“But there are others?” Noctis grabs the back of the driver’s seat, pulling himself forward. “Right?”

“The vast majority of Lucians are made. Yourself, King Regis and uh…” Ignis pauses, “ _another individual_ are the only born Lucians currently living.” 

“Since when?” Noctis demands.

“Since always,” Gladiolus snorts.

“You are the first born Lucian we have been graced with in two thousand years,” Ignis clarifies.

“ _Two thousand--?_ ” Noctis gapes.

“Wow, wait,” Prompto pulls Noctis back by his scuff. “Does that mean King Regis is, like, two thousand years old?”

“Yes,” Ignis answers without hesitating. “It takes a great deal to kill a Lucian.”

“So are you like vampires or…?”

“Not exactly,” Gladiolus grunts. “A lot of those myths are from people who got half a look at a Lucian one time.”

“Elements of the myths are technically true,” Ignis elaborates, “but the truth is complicated.”

“Just don’t go calling anyone a vampire, Blondie,” Gladiolus warns. “Some Lucians find those words offensive.”

“Got it!” Prompto chirps.

“What does that mean?” Noctis presses. “What does being a prince mean?”

“A lot of things,” Ignis raises one hand off the steering wheel entreatingly, “but tonight has been very eventful already. There’s plenty of time to explain all that after you’re rested.”

Noctis slumps back in the seat, heart thundering. No one said anything about being a prince. That means people are going to rely on him, are going to need him, and he’s not free to make his own way under those circumstances. They want him for a role, for a set duty. Noctis runs a hand through his hair. He feels sick.

“You look pale,” Gladiolus remarks from the rear-view mirror, “you alright?”

Noctis nods weakly.

Prompto fumbles, trying to distract him;

“So are you and Ignis, like, security? Like guards?”

Ignis scoffs, almost visibly offended.

“No,” Gladiolus answers before Ignis can get lecturing indignantly. “We’re from higher ranking blood lines and we’ve been selected to support Noctis. There are a couple of traditional roles in the court. Ignis will be Noctis’ Hand; head of the council, advisor. That sort of thing. I’ve been chosen to be his Shield. Head of his forces, personal bodyguard, resident meat blockade if something goes wrong.”

Prompto snorts, amused, but adds; “sounds like you’re very proud, Ignis?”

“I was selected for the position a hundred years ago,” he answers, “I am delighted to finally take up my duty in an active sense. It’s very hard to serve a Prince we haven’t found yet, you understand.”

Noctis hiccups, whole body lurching.

“Noctis?” Ignis glances quickly.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Noctis manages.

“Don’t do it in the car,” Gladiolus orders, making gestures to Ignis who swiftly pulls over.

No sooner has the car slid to a stop than Noctis is throwing his seatbelt off and stumbling out of the car. Gladiolus joins him on the sidewalk while Noctis hunches and hurls into the bushes. Gladiolus’ hand settles between his shoulder blades and Noctis, on instinct, shrugs him off. Noctis doesn’t like being touched as a general rule.

“You want some water?” Gladiolus rumbles, seemingly unoffended by Noctis’ rejection.

“Ahuh, please,” Noctis coughs, spitting up into the bushes.

Gladiolus returns and thrusts a bottle of water under Noctis’ nose. Noctis takes it swishing it around his mouth to clear out the taste. Another few gulps later he feels half human.

“You okay?” Gladiolus tries to ascertain, crouching down beside him.

“This is a lot,” Noctis groans, “this is way too much.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gladiolus assures. “Lots of time to learn. No one expects you to know what you’re doing yet. Just take a deep breath.”

“I should go back,” Noctis moans, hands on his knees, eyes scrunched shut.

“That’s not a better option,” Gladiolus snorts. “Ignoring that shit show you were living in humans aren’t equipped to help you. They’re not going to understand what’s happening as you come into your power.”

Noctis grumbles.

“Come on,” Gladiolus entreats, “let’s get back in the car. We’ll get you a good night’s sleep and then tomorrow we’ll take it all step by step.”

Noctis huffs out a thick puff off air, trying to gather himself. He probably can’t just go home. It’s just… no one told him about all this. Come live with the Fae Folk sounds way different when they specify ‘ _oh yeah, you can be our prince too_ ’.

Gladiolus gives him a moment, just waits, and eventually Noctis stands up.

“Okay,” he decides. “Car.”

Gladiolus stands and escorting him back opens the back door for him to slip back inside.

Prompto takes his hand, slumps into his shoulder, rubs his thumb into Noctis’ knuckles gently. Noctis focuses on breathing.

* * *

They drive right through the centre of Insomnia. Noctis expects them keep going out onto the other side of the city but they draw close to a towering complex of buildings near the beating heart of the city and pull into an underground carpark under said complex. Ignis flashes a key card and a security pass to an actual guard and they pull in.

“You live here?” Prompto can’t help but ask.

“King Regis and the court own a number of buildings in the city. This is our….” Ignis pauses for the right word. “We call this the Citadel. It’s home.”

Ignis pulls into park and opens the door for them while Gladiolus- Gladio, Noctis decides- gets their bags from the trunk. Gladio has a backpack strap over either shoulder while Ignis leads them to the lift. He has to flash a key card to get the lift to work and then he has to key in a code after selecting the floor under the penthouse.

The entre an ante chamber and a keycode later Ignis is shuffling them into a darkened space.

Ignis flicks the lights.

“Holy shit!” Prompto chirps.

It’s an apartment, fully furnished, and its fucking huge. Noctis has seen smaller houses on TV. Noctis feels his jaw drop.

“Are we staying here?” Prompto asks, wavering.

“These are the Prince’s quarters.” Ignis confirms. “Four bedroom, two bath, private gym. We had to rush to get things ready but the sheets are fresh and the fridge has been stocked.”

“Citadel has a proper gym in this building, and a pool, for the upper families.” Gladio adds. “So never mind if the one here isn’t huge.”

Noctis is still picking his jaw up off the floor. Okay, maybe this was worth it.

“I’ve never…” Noctis fumbles, stopping himself.

“Hmm?” Ignis encourages.

“I’ve never slept anywhere this _clean,_ ” Noctis whispers, “this _big_.”

Ignis makes a face, a gentle sign of distress, like that’s completed unacceptable. Ignis’ eyes aren’t mocking or anything like that. Ignis’ hard glance seems to say; ‘ _so long as I’m breathing you’re never sleeping in a dingy hovel again_ ’. Noctis isn’t sure what to say.

Ignis forces himself to soften.

“Would you like to get changed into something more comfortable?” He offers.

“Yes please!” Prompto laughs.

Gladio hefts the backpacks a little higher on his shoulders.

“We’ll put your stuff in the spare room, blondie.”

“No, wait,” Noctis pivots. “Prom, can you camp with me tonight?”

“Yeah, sure, bud.” Prompto smiles.

“There’s no need,” Ignis tries to talk them down. “There’s plenty of space and you’re both perfectly safe here.”

“I’d still feel better that way, if it’s all the same,” Noctis insists.

“Me too,” Prompto agrees.

“Master it is then, I suppose,” Gladio shrugs stalking off with their things.

Ignis just sighs but doesn’t fuss further.

“Come on then,” he beckons.

The master bedroom is huge and the bed is more than big enough for Prompto and Noctis. Gladio lowers their things to the ground at the end of the bed and Ignis fumbles in the closet for a moment. He comes back with pjs he’s stilling pulling the tags off from. 

“Jared, a retainer, fetched these this afternoon.” He explains. “They might not fit perfectly. Let me know.”

“Who cares?” Noctis snorts, taking the bundle eagerly. He hasn’t had new anything in literal years. He sleeps in ten gil pyjama pants and his dirty shirts. This is all luxury.

Prompto’s already throwing his shirt off as Noctis tosses him a scrunched bundle.

“We’ll be just outside,” Ignis straightens his glasses, disappearing with Gladio.

Inside the bedroom, Noctis marvels at the cotton.

“Dude they’re so soft,” he sighs, hugging the shirt to himself.

“Dude they’re brand.” Prompto gawks with equal intensity. “These Lucians are _loaded_.”

“Yeah, because the skyscraper and the penthouse didn’t give that away,” Noctis laughs.

“This is so surreal,” Prompto grins. “I think I’m dreaming.”

“I don’t care,” Noctis shrugs lopsidedly. “It’s a nice dream. Everything’s clean, there’s food in the fridge—I just—I don’t wanna wake up yet. Let’s just go with it.”

Prompto nods eagerly.

“Thanks Noct,” he whispers.

“For what?” Noctis snorts. “Dragging you into a fucking freak show?”

“Dude,” Prompto shoves him, grabbing his shirt and yanking him close in the same motion so he can throw his arms around him. “Thanks for not leaving me behind.”

“I would’ve missed you too much,” Noctis shrugs, hugging Prompto tightly. “Besides, I can’t get food and not share it with you. Without you I would’ve starved years ago.”

Prompto squeezes him, the pair of them lingering in the moment for a second, before they peel away. Noctis fishes up Prompto’s hand and tugs him out of the bedroom. 

Noctis doesn’t hear Gladio and Ignis immediately, they’re talking in hushed but riled tones. Noctis pauses, tucking Prompto behind him.

“You gotta breathe Iggy,” Gladio whispers.

“They let any human wench with a uterus breed in this century,” Ignis hisses.

Noctis stomach drops.

“They’re okay, it’s—”

“They’re malnourished,” Ignis snaps. “What kind of bottom feeders don’t take care of their young? Did you see their faces, Gladio? He’s never slept anywhere _clean._ It’s a _disgrace_.”

“He’s here now,” Gladio soothes, “we’ll take care of him. You can fuss to your heart’s content. There’s even two of them instead of one! Two for the price of one!”

Noctis takes a deep breath and steps into the lounge. Ignis and Gladio stiffen, shutting up immediately, and Ignis straightens his glasses like he’s embarrassed. 

They don’t ask how much Noctis and Prompto heard or not but they’re plainly a little bashful so its obvious they heard something. Ignis forces another level smile.

“Better?” He hopes.

“Comfy,” Prompto chirps from Noctis’ side, forcing his own smile.

“You two should sleep,” Ignis supposes, “it’s getting late.”

“See you tomorrow?” Prompto supposes.

“We’ll be here before you wake up,” Ignis promises. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“It’s okay,” Noctis tries to argue. “We can—"

“I insist,” Ignis presses gently.

* * *

The bed is so comfortable Noctis is out cold almost immediately. He’s never slept so deeply. Prompto’s parents aren’t going to come home, his mum’s drugged out boyfriend isn’t going to break into his room screaming, there’s no school tomorrow… Noctis’ worries and cares just float away. He’s safe. Maybe that’s ambitious or naïve but he feels safe. Like he’s finally somewhere he belongs.

Prompto curls up against him and Noctis wakes to soft light the next morning. Face buried in Prompto’s hair Noctis feels groggy but happy. He expects to wake up in his dingy bedroom, smelling of dirty laundry, but, no, he’s in the luxe Lucian apartment still, in a soft clean bed, in soft clean pjs. He blinks around the room weakly, mapping the ceiling, the high windows…

It’s nice here.

Prompto stirs against him, hugging back, and twisting his face out from Noctis’ clavicle sniffs.

“Do you smell that?” He whispers.

Noctis sniffs, melting into a purr.

“Is that bacon?”

“We should absolutely find out.” Prompto grins.

Sure enough Gladio and Ignis are waiting for them in the kitchen. Gladio is kicking back with the newspaper and Ignis is cooking up a literal feast; bacon, eggs, pancakes, fruit, fresh juice… Noctis is salivating despite his best intentions, drool threatening to creep down his chin.

“Morning,” Noctis manages.

“Sleep well?” Gladio glances up briefly.

“Like rocks,” Prompto laughs, sinking bravely into a seat at the kitchen table. Gladio grins at him, utterly unphased, and turns back to the paper without hassling him at all.

“I just need another moment,” Ignis assures, “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I could eat a bison,” Noctis promises.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Ignis snorts, pulling plates out of the cupboards. “Sit, Noctis.”

Fumbling Noctis joins Prompto at the table and drags a hand through his hair.

When they settle, food spread out between them, plates loaded, Noctis isn’t sure where to start. He and Prompto stall for a moment, share a glance, and an awful feeling creeps into the air. Part of this feels too good to be true. This can’t be for them. It’ll be snatched away any second. Noctis feels his appetite fluctuate. He wants the food, more than anything, but his inbuilt paranoia tries to hold him back.

Gladio glances up, watching them closely, while Ignis frowns. 

Noctis tries to break from his hesitation but it’s a struggle. Prompto won’t start eating unless Noctis does, it’s a pack animal mentality, and with Gladio and Ignis holding back Noctis can’t shake the feeling he’s about to fall into a trap. He looks to Gladio hopelessly, like he’s begging for help, and the big brute seems to comprehend some of the discomfort.

“Iggy,” he grunts, nudging the other. “Eat.”

“But—” Ignis wavers.

“ _Eat,_ ” Gladio insists.

Ignis frowns but picks up his knife and fork. Gladio starts eating and, although he hesitates, Ignis follows suit. Noctis waits, watches, waiting for everything to settle. Eventually Gladio glances back to him, suggesting, and cautiously Noctis picks up his cutlery. Ignis’s eyes flicker over him hopefully and Noctis manages, oh so carefully, to take a mouthful of eggs. He chews, he swallows, he pauses.

Nothing bad happens.

Noctis tries again and, beside him, Prompto finally picks up his own cutlery to start eating. Once the panic abates Noctis feels the hunger creeping back in. It tastes _so good_. Like, impossibly good. It’s almost supernatural. Normal food doesn’t taste like this. Ever.

Prompto makes a happy little moan in the back of his throat and they pick up their pace, confidence growing.

“Can I--?” Noctis hesitates over the tray of remaining bacon.

Ignis lurches forward to push it closer.

“Of course, help yourself,” he entreats.

Prompto snatches a forkful of bacon from the tray, like a quick bird, before Noctis has even gotten his shit together but then they’re both loading seconds onto their plates.

Gladio shots Ignis a vaguely reassuring look and Ignis, for his part, seems grateful for Gladio’s quick thinking.

Noctis’ table manners aren’t perfect, neither are Prompto’s, but neither Ignis nor Gladio berate them. They just seem happy they’re eating at all.

After breakfast Noctis takes a long shower and gets changed into clothes from his backpack; jeans, band tee, hoodie, big ‘fuck off’ boots. Ignis doesn’t seem to approve but he doesn’t argue either. Prompto is equally unkempt.

“I think we should go shopping today,” Ignis decides. “There are plenty of essentials we should pick up. Your phones, for one thing, look very outdated.”

“Me too?” Prompto hesitates.

“You too,” Ignis nods. “If the Lucian royal house can’t dress two teenagers I shudder to think who’s managing our finances.”

Prompto smiles wryly.

“Now, I’m just going to inform the Glaive we’ll be going out—” Ignis starts to explain but Gladio sticks his head into the lounge abruptly with his phone in hand, looking pale. Ignis tilts his head, frowning.

“Trouble,” Gladio grunts.

“What kind of trouble?” Ignis asks.

“He’s downstairs.”

“ _What?_ ” Ignis gawks. “Already? I thought—”

“Apparently he’s not going to wait until the name day.”

“Fuck,” Ignis hisses roughly. “Can we—?”

“It would be very rude,” Gladio counters tensely.

“The King?”

“King Regis has gone ahead to meet with him,” Gladio answers, “we’ve got twenty minutes, max, before they come looking for us.”

Ignis swears again.

Noctis feels his stomach tightening and Prompto shuffles a little closer beside him.

“Everything okay…?” Prompto asks tentatively when Noctis can’t find his voice.

“We have a guest,” Ignis tries to collect himself miserably, straightening his glasses. “He will be here to meet Noctis. I had hoped to prepare you a little better but it seems…” Ignis trails off.

“Is he dangerous or something?” Noctis frowns.

“He won’t try anything here,” Ignis half answers, which doesn’t make Noctis feel any better. At all.

“We should go,” Gladio reminds, tense as anything.

“Prompto stay behind me,” Ignis instructs, “and Noctis you are not to move away from Gladio, do you understand?”

“What’s going on?” Noctis demands.

“Do you understand?” Ignis snaps.

“Y-yes?” Noctis wavers.

“Good, come along, I’ll explain in the elevator.” Ignis promises.

Prompto and Noctis hurry along out of the apartment. In the elevator Gladio’s hand settled on the small of Noctis’ back. Noctis tries to shrug him off but Gladio curls his fingers in the worn fabric of his hoodie.

“Bear it,” he pleads, “just trust me, okay?”

“What’s going on?” Noctis repeats, eyes flashing between Ignis and Gladio.

“There are three born Lucians.” Ignis explains. “King Regis, yourself and a man we currently refer to as Ardyn Izunia. He’s… He’s outside the court. He’s a rogue. However, we have to pay our respects because he is very old and very powerful.”

“Outside the court?” Prompto tries to understand.

“There was a dispute over the throne, a very long time ago,” Ignis tries to give them the abridged version. “Ardyn lost. He’s not pleased about that. Technically he was banished, title revoked, but that’s a… _tenuous_ arrangement. No one actually has the authority to banish a born Lucian. Certainly not one that old.”

“So he wants… what, exactly?” Noctis supposes as the elevator sinks lower and lower.

“Probably to cause trouble,” Ignis confesses. “Please stay close. You’re very vulnerable in your current condition.”

Noctis is absolutely not ready for this.

No one said anything about homicidal distant relatives.

* * *

Noctis is taken to a grand main foyer. There are men in black uniforms all over the place, just waiting, tense and ready for action. King Regis is ahead, with a few well-dressed Lucians, and as they approach Gladio keeps his fingers curled in the back of Noctis’ hoodie pre-emptively. Prompto, who looks terrified, is a step behind Ignis.

As they get closer, King Regis glances back and Noctis makes note of how pinched and stern his expression is. It’s a world away from the gentle man who spoke with Noctis yesterday.

“Ah! There he is!”

The man, Ardyn, looks younger than Regis. Which totally throws Noctis for a second. He has a vibration Noctis can feel from down the hall and, hat in hand, he starts to come closer. Gladio yanks Noctis’ hoodie, stalling them where they stand, and Noctis swallows.

“Don’t you look delightfully human?” Ardyn chuckles.

“He only arrived last night, Ardyn.” King Regis pivots to watch him, downright scowling. “It would be proper to wait until the name day.”

“Nonsense,” Ardyn dismisses. “He’s slept in a Lucian grotto and eaten Lucian food; he’s officially claimed. In my day—”

“We are not in your day.” King Regis counters firmly.

“Well,” Ardyn snorts tightly, pausing to cast a glance back at Regis, “all the same. I am entitled to a meeting.”

“Something like that,” King Regis rumbles.

“Never mind, never mind, let’s all be civil.” Ardyn swings back around. “Ardyn Izunia, at your service, Highness.” He dips elaborately. “And what have they named the King of Kings?”

Noctis frowns, glancing sideways to Gladio who offers no immediate support. Noctis knows bad men when he sees them. He’s met sleaze balls and jerks, plenty of them, but the really bad ones, the assholes, are always evident. This guy radiates; ‘ _I’m bad news_ ’ and Noctis is not about that. He considers Prompto too and then, all of a sudden, he’s giving into years of street smarts and sass.

“Noctis.” He grunts, hand finding his hip, chin going up.

Gladio stiffens, Ignis visibly tenses, and behind Ardyn the royal retinue look uncertain.

“Oh,” Ardyn laughs, theatrically taken aback, “and not shy either! A pleasure, Noctis.”

Noctis tugs together years of instinct.

“Did you want something?” Noctis asks.

“I was so hoping we could get to know each other,” Ardyn replies, slouching coyly into one foot. “We haven’t had a newborn in millennia and I’m sure you could use a little insight into the situation at hand.”

“I think King Regis has things plenty under control,” Noctis answers. “If it’s all the same I think I’ll wait to hear what he says.”

“Now, don’t be so cold, I’m practically family!”

“Family calls ahead,” Noctis counters without pause.

Ardyn stalls, tilts his head, but then laughs.

“Forgive my poor manners,” he puts his hand to his chest. “Surely, though, now I’m here you can spare me an hour?”

“Other plans, sorry,” Noctis answers. “If you call ahead next time I’ll clear my schedule.”

“Do you promise?” Ardyn’s gaze flickers sharply.

“Only one way to find out,” Noctis shrugs petulantly.

“Oh where did they find you?” Ardyn chuckles. “I want twelve more. Is your little blonde friend equally as charming?”

“We’re not talking about him.” Noctis straightens to his full height. He’s had plenty of bullies try to go for Prompto before and he’s not going there. He’ll throw down first. “You’re going to make me jealous.”

“Apologies, apologies,” Ardyn eases back. “I get over excited, your Highness. I suppose, if you have alternative plans, I should take my leave for now?”

“I’m sure you’re a busy man,” Noctis shrugs.

“I’ll be sure to make time for your name day, however,” Ardyn promises. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Highness.”

He gives another mocking bow and turns back, drifting away.

“Seems I’ve been rude, King Regis,” he tuts. “My apologies to yourself and the Prince. Until next time!”

And then he’s gone out the foyer door and all the air comes rushing back into the room.

Noctis slumps, wheezing.

Prompto full on thunks to his knees on the floor with a weak; “ _dude,_ scary much _…”_

Noctis barely registers King Regis is approach him until Gladio and Ignis straighten and the King’s hand touches his shoulder, startling him out of his daze. 

“Well done,” Regis praises. “I wish I could’ve bought you more time but under the circumstances you did very well.”

“He seems like an asshole,” Noctis mumbles.

Regis grins knowingly.

“A choice set of words,” he acknowledges without agreeing. “We’ll be better prepared for him next time. He’s powerful but he has little real authority and we have a lot of loyal Lucians.”

“What did he mean?” Noctis presses. “He said ‘ _King of Kings_ ’ or something? What does that mean?”

“Every born Lucian is foretold in the stars,” Regis answers, “you garnered quite a grand prophecy. The Six are calling you our King of Kings. They have promised you will be the greatest Lucian to ever rule. Sounds scary, I know, but everything has its purpose.”

“I guess…” Noctis slumps. “I’m just a punk though.”

“A punk who just held himself very well against an ancient scourge,” Regis squeezes his shoulder. “You’ll do fine.”

Noctis nods.

“Ignis, Gladio,” Regis turns. “I believe you had a pleasant day ahead of you? Let’s not interrupt that any further.”

“Yes Majesty,” Ignis dips at the waist.

* * *

In the elevator Ignis makes quick work of pulling Prompto up a little straighter. He lifts his gaze by cupping his cheeks, like he’s checking Prompto’s bemused eyes for something, and ducking down a moment later bundles Prompto against his chest. Prompto squeaks but doesn’t fight the tight embrace.

Ignis releases Prompto a moment later, half patting him down, and turns to Noctis.

Noctis stiffens like a cat.

“It’ll be easier on all of us if you just let it happen,” Gladio rumbles over his shoulder.

“No,” Noctis puts his foot down.

“You let Prompto stick pretty close.”

“I’ve known Prompto since I was like eight,” Noctis argues, eyes unwavering on Ignis. Ignis seems to get the hint but his fingers are still twitching by his sides.

“Just—” Ignis begins.

“No,” Noctis maintains.

“I very nearly just had a heart attack,” Ignis defends. “Just—”

“I’m fine,” Noctis insists, arms crossing.

“Just your hand?” Ignis attempts again.

Noctis wavers, eyes averting, but grumbling untangles his arms. Ignis snatches his hand into both of his and clutches it tight. Thumbs run over Noctis’ knuckles, his lightly curled fist tucked against Ignis’ breast, the Lucians’ fingers massaging his hand.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ignis asks. “You don’t feel sick?”

“I feel fine,” Noctis mumbles petulantly. “He didn’t even touch me.”

“Lucians don’t need to touch someone to hurt them,” Gladio answers leaning against the back of the elevator, “and that asshole is pure bad magic.”

“Prompto,” Ignis turns, never releasing Noctis’ hand, “you’re not to tell anyone your full birth name. Lucians can do powerful magic with a human’s name. And, Noctis, you’re not to swear any oaths to anyone. No matter how casual. A born Lucian can be held to promises.” 

“Lucians can do magic with that stuff?” Prompto blinks.

“My magic,” Gladio begins, “is more… _guttural_ but, yeah, Lucians like Iggy are more like tricksters. They make contracts, they barter, they play with requests and loopholes. It’s like business law 101.”

“Ardyn tried to lure you into at least three such traps,” Ignis huffs. “You didn’t fall into any of them, mercifully, but that seems sheer luck.”

Noctis recounts the conversation in his head, he can see some of the junctions Ignis is talking about.

“What now?” Noctis supposes. “Do we like…? Is there a process for after an Ardyn visit?”

“We’ll be cleansing the grounds, that’s for bloody certain,” Ignis grumbles. “But the others will take care of that. For now? We are going shopping, like promised.”

“Yay?” Prompto tries to perk them up.

Ignis doesn’t release Noctis’ hand till they enter the parking garage. Noctis and Prompto head for the nondescript black car from yesterday but Ignis tugs them in another direction.

“That’s for undercover work, a rental,” Ignis explains, “today we ride in appropriate style.”

Ignis directs them to another, much prettier, black convertible.

Prompto whistles.

“Oh she’s gorgeous…”

“I don’t think I’m legally allowed to ride in something that luxe.” Noctis mumbles.

“Does she have a name, Iggy?” Prompto asks.

Ignis, to his credit, doesn’t fluster at all that Prompto’s picked up the nickname.

“This is the Regalia.”

“You could bounce a bear off this baby,” Gladio grins. “Iggy—”

“I’m driving.” Ignis informs, index finger waggling.

“Oh come _on_ —”

“Speed limits.”

“I’m not gonna speed with the kids in the car!” Gladio defends.

“Regardless,” Ignis grunts, “get in the car, Gladio.”

Grumbling Gladio climbs into the backseat. Noctis and Prompto share a glance and Noctis thinks they understand each other but Prompto climbs into the front seat beside Ignis and leaves Noctis the empty backseat. Noctis rolls his eyes dramatically but slumps into the car. Fuck those seats are comfy. Noctis has slept in cars before. He could live in a car like this. That said, he doesn’t mention it because Ignis seems a little irate that Noctis has been living like a street urchin for sixteen years…

* * *

Gladio has experience carrying bags. Noctis knows that immediately. Ignis likewise is used to throwing a credit card around. Ignis drags them into boutiques Noctis would never imagine walking into. If the store clerks catch sight of Noctis and Prompto gawking before Ignis they tend to baulk sceptically but when Gladio walks in with a stack of already full bags they scamper to offer assistance.

Clothes are purchased, every kind of clothing just to be safe; jackets, shirts, pjs, socks, underwear, shoes… then Ignis insists on some basics like new toothbrushes, decent shampoo, skincare, and _new fucking cell phones_. Noctis is eying headphones with Gladio in the audio department when he catches sight of Prompto whispering to Ignis.

Prompto looks distressed.

Noctis makes a beeline for them so fast Gladio grunts at him to slow down.

“Prom?” Noctis cuts them off. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing,” Prompto waves his hands dismissively.

“Don’t fuck with me,” Noctis inserts himself between Ignis and Prompto, “what’s wrong?”

“I just…” Prompto shrugs, cheeks colouring. “I feel weird accepting all this. Are we allowed to do this? How are we ever going to pay this back?”

Noctis feels his stomach sink. That’s a damn good question. Noctis’ mouth opens and closes, looking for words, but Ignis swoops in;

“Our accounts are bountiful. The Crown has been investing and buying and building since before Insomnia was built. Our fortunes are old. Even if they weren’t; human currency is not something we trouble ourselves with.”

“You need these things,” Gladio explains, always a little plainer than Ignis. “If you’re going to fulfil your duties at court you need to be equipped. If you wanna pay us back just do your best.”

“But I’m not—” Prompto warbles.

“You keep him sane,” Gladio has already deduced from Noctis and Prompto’s interactions, “and we’ll find plenty of other things for you to do, Blondie. Don’t stress it so bad.”

“Can we get jobs?” Noctis supposes.

“Human jobs?” Ignis baulks. “You’ll be too busy for much of that.”

“You’re trust fund kids now.” Gladio shrugs. “But I’m sure, if you want, Ignis can teach you how to turn a profit on that too. It’s not all shopping trips. We are going to keep you swamped.”

“Besides,” Ignis tries to clear the air, “you’re underage; adults are _supposed_ to be providing for you.”

Noctis and Prompto exchange nervous glances.

“I think,” Gladio tempts, “we need those headphones and I’m fairly sure there’s a gaming console two rows back.”

Noctis wavers, Prompto waits for him to make the call.

“Can we buy a camera?” Noctis asks softly.

Ignis and Gladio exchange a curious look, confused, but when Prompto gawks at Noctis, going beet red in a matter of seconds, they start to get the gist of the request.

“I don’t see any reason why not,” Ignis assures. “Why don’t you two find a gaming set up for the apartment and, Prompto, we’ll find a suitable camera?”

Prompto stutters, looks like he might cry, but doesn’t argue. Noctis thinks he’s too excited to argue. Prompto’s had the same shitty camera for years. If Prompto can get a camera then it all seems right somehow. Noctis can go back to playing pretend he’s someone important if they get something meaningful out of it like a camera. That’ll make Prompto happy long term, not just today; that’s worth it.

They load up the car to bursting an hour later and Ignis is keen to take them back to the Citadel but Noctis is ravenous.

“Can we hit up the food court?” Prompto begs. “I’m _starving._ ”

“I’d rather wait till we get home,” Gladio grunts, “that food court shit is garbage.”

“Yeah but that’s why it’s _fun_.” Noctis insists.

“I would advise against it.” Ignis sighs. “But if that’s what you want, we can.”

Prompto whoops, delighted, and they unwrap Prompto’s new camera at the white plastic table in the food court while they wait for their order. Ignis reminds them they’ll need to charge it at home first but Prompto and Noctis don’t care. They just want to gawk.

Noctis darts from the table to fetch their food and curling up with loaded slices of thick crust pizza nothing could be better. Prompto croons, taking both hands to pick up the food without dropping the heaped toppings, but shoving the pizza in his mouth he pulls a funny face.

“Dude this tastes weird.” Prompto remarks.

“It looks good,” Noctis frowns, taking a bite. “Oh _ew_ … what the fuck?”

“It’s a culture thing,” Gladio tells them. “Human food never tastes the same after you’ve had Lucian food. Remember all those stories about fairy parties and amazing food? We just do it better.”

“But…” Noctis is a little mystified. “Isn’t food, just…food?”

“Food is not _just food_ ,” Ignis huffs. “A great deal more than mere ingredients goes into cooking.”

“So, what, if you did this it would just be better? Same ingredients and everything?”

“Hand me a slice.” Ignis orders.

Prompto complies.

Ignis does not look pumped but he does take a bite.

“Ugh, yes, for the record I could do this far better.” He promises.

“Prove it,” Noctis chirps, grinning.

“I—” Ignis frowns. “Did you just bait me, Noctis?”

“Something like that…?” Noctis answers innocently, sipping the foul tasting soda.

Gladio laughs.

“First point, Noctis.” He dings.

“Ugh,” Ignis sighs, straightening his glasses. “Well if that’s settled why don’t we go home?” 

“Yeah, okay.” Prompto consents, gathering up camera, instructions and accessories.

“Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to eat this.” Noctis agrees, stacking the still full plates and getting rid of them.

* * *

Ignis’ pizza is way, way, better than the one at the food court. Noctis isn’t really sure if it’s just the magical qualities of Lucian cooking or if it’s the magical qualities of Ignis. Curled up on the couch in the apartment Noctis feels fat and satisfied.

“Hey, Iggy, Gladio,” Noctis calls their attention awkwardly.

“Hmm?” Ignis is the first to glance up.

“Thanks for being cool,” Noctis tries to express himself.

“Yeah! For sure!” Prompto agrees, toying with his new camera, almost nervously.

“This is all super weird, and I feel like it’ll get super complicated,” Noctis admits, “but I think we’ll be okay. I feel like we’re going to be close friends.”

“I would like nothing more,” Ignis smiles.

“Yeah, what Iggy said,” Gladio snorts.

“I…” Prompto speaks up cautiously.

They collectively shift.

“Thanks a lot,” Prompto sniffs, starting to—

“Dude!” Noctis groans. “Stop, if you do that—”

Now they’re both crying.

Ignis is up in a second.

Gladio just sighs, amused and kind.

“Okay, okay.” Ignis soothes. “I think we need ice cream. How does that sound?”

“Your ice cream?” Noctis sniffs, blubbering.

“With fudge?” Prompto adds hopefully.

“My ice cream, with fudge,” Ignis promises.

“It is going to be an interesting first few decades,” Gladio grins warmly.


End file.
